


An Unfortunate Deal

by shefrommo



Series: I'm no longer in Creative Writing classes, so I can post these now [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Character prompts: Necromancer afraid of the dead and Talking Horse, Fragile Object prompt: Wet pinata, Gen, Originally written on 8/26/19, Prompt lists were issued and we picked our own prompts, Setting prompt: In a pole attached to a merry-go-round, Wrote this one a couple of years ago for a Creative Writing Course
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:08:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24886612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shefrommo/pseuds/shefrommo
Summary: The result of a Creative Writing class writing challenge. The goal was to pick two characters, a setting, and a fragile object. I picked the "Necromancer afraid of the dead," and the "Talking Horse" for characters. My setting was "In a pole attached to a merry-go-round" and my fragile object was the "Wet Piñata."
Series: I'm no longer in Creative Writing classes, so I can post these now [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1800808
Kudos: 2





	An Unfortunate Deal

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy this writing exercise!

“All right, I don’t know if you have a functional nervous system or not, so this might hurt a little—or not at all. Either way, don’t move and I’ll make it as quick as possible,” the Necromancer mumbled, voice nearly inaudible as he raised a hammer.

The Porcelain Horse snorted impatiently. “Is that supposed to be a joke? I’m currently made of porcelain and glued to a merry-go-round. I’m not going anywhere!”

Whatever she intended to say next was muffled under the abrupt crack of porcelain shattering under a hammer. The Necromancer quickly backed up and grabbed a vial from his belt, uncorking it and holding it to the hole. A newly-made hole gaped in the Porcelain Horse’s body, right next to where the merry-go-round pole impaled her and staked her to the amusement park attraction. From it a sticky, rancid-smelling red substance oozed—not blood but an absurd amount of strawberry syrup pre-poured down the pole after several days of hard work courtesy of the Necromancer. This syrup was collected in the vial and the Necromancer turned away from his companion to grab something from his bag of supplies.

The Porcelain Horse watched him work as best as she could from the corner of her painted-on eyes. “Why did you need to bother with all that syrup anyways?” she demanded after several minutes of trying and failing to watch him.

“You wouldn’t tell me where your original body went, so I can’t bleed it, and this one doesn’t have any blood of its own, so…” the Necromancer trailed off and went back for another vial of strawberry syrup. “Normally, when I transfer someone’s soul to a new body, I need to transfer the blood of a form significant to them into the new vessel to start with. I can’t do that with your old one, this one has no blood, and technically, your soul has never resided in the new one, so even if it did have blood it would be invalidated because of that. The strawberry syrup is just a substitute—it looks close enough and sat in your body long enough and it was really cheap to buy.”

If the Porcelain Horse could have narrowed her eyes and glared at him, she would have. “What do you mean that this new one has no blood?”

The Necromancer twitched away from her and reflexively began to hunch in on himself at her tone. “Uh—I thought…you wanted a um…a new horse form? One that _wasn’t_ part of a merry-go-round?” he squeaked out. “I can’t get ahold of an _actual_ horse. They’re way too expensive, and I’m not going to reanimate a dead horse—I have enough problems with zombies stalking me as it is! That’s why I need your help remember?”

“I wanted to be human again!” the Porcelain Horse roared. “I’m sick and tired of being a horse! Why, if only I could find a certified Curse Breaker that could turn me back, I _would_ be human! But instead I’m stuck with shrinking violet of a Necromancer—the one who’s probably the _only_ Necromancer there is in the _world_ who’s afraid of his own creations even, of all the bad luck—”

From inside the hole in the Porcelain Horse, a massive cockroach crawled out, and the Necromancer screamed, dropping the overflowing vial and backing away. There was a wet crunch as he fell backwards over his own supplies.

“Oh, what now?” the Porcelain Horse snapped.

“Th—there’s a bug!” the Necromancer sobbed, scrambling away in terror. “A bug! It crawled out of you!”

“A bug— _a bug._ ” the Porcelain Horse’s voice went flat with incredulity. “You’re scared of a—for the love of all the saints and demons! You’re a Necromancer! You’re transferring my soul to a new vessel, one of the most dangerous and forbidden magics there is—and you’re scared of a bug? _Get back up and fix me, you sniveling doormat._ ”

The Necromancer inched farther away from hole, quivering as he tried to ineffectually take cover behind an inanimate horse. If he’d tried the mock carriage a few poles down it might have stood a better chance at working but as it was, it only put him in the Porcelain Horse’s field of view.

“I said, get. Back. Here,” the Porcelain Horse hissed at him, and the Necromancer glanced briefly at her, then down at his backpack and the vessel. His face went white in horror.

“I-I’m sorry,” he squeaked but did come closer. “I can’t…”

“Yes, you can. You will, or I won’t help you with your zombie problem,” she threatened.

The Necromancer crept closer before grabbing his bag and stuffing his belongings back in it, including the discarded hammer. The shattered vial he repaired with an absent spell, then cleaned off the syrup with his sleeve and shoved it into his pocket. Belongings collected (and hideously huge cockroach neatly avoided as it was still crawling down the Porcelain Horse’s leg) he grabbed the item he had tripped over earlier: a syrup-coated, partially-caved-in piñata. He held it up to the Porcelain Horse. “I can’t. The pinata was destroyed. I’d have to restart with a new one…” he swallowed nervously. “But…I don’t think I will. I’m sorry, but I really can’t stand bugs! I’m sure someone will come help you eventually! The news said that this place would be torn down soon, so when the construction guys or whoever come by to do so, just scream really loudly and they’ll help!”

“What? You can’t just leave! It’s been weeks and you haven’t gotten anywhere!” the Porcelain Horse said, astonished. When the Necromancer dropped the piñata and burned it up, before turning and jumping off the merry-go-round, the Porcelain Horse changed tracks. “Wait! How am I supposed to help you if I’m stuck here? You still have all those zombies chasing you, don’t you? I thought you needed my help!”

“It’s okay! I have a familiar, you know! He’s been hibernating for months now, but if I can just hold out until the spring equinox, he’ll wake up and fix this! It’s only three months away and I’m sure between now and then I can trick a couple Questers into killing some of the zombies for me!” The Necromancer didn’t even have the decency to look back as he _sprinted_ away, leaving the Porcelain Horse still in the same position she started in—made of porcelain and stuck to a merry-go-round, only now with a hole in her back and a budding colony of palmetto bugs.


End file.
